Still Trapped
by Kara1626
Summary: Tony's got plenty of time to think about his latest screw up. And mow the lawn. Sequel to Trapped. WARNING: Contains references to spanking.
1. Day 1 AM

**WARNING: Contains references to spanking.**

**Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. I just borrow them.**

**Sequel to **_**Trapped**_

* * *

Tony stretched and ran his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. A couple of deep yawns later, he finally flipped back the blankets and dropped his bare feet to the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, his brain already fully engaged, even if his body wasn't. Naturally, his thoughts turned to the events of the day before – Stupidly getting trapped in a warehouse he had no business being in in the first place, getting reamed out by the director, the furious silence from Gibbs' side of the car…He shook his head to clear away the thoughts of what had happened after that.

He stood up and stretched again then hastily made his bed – a task that more often than not got skipped when he was home. As he brushed past the dresser on his way to the door, something caught his eye. His stomach flipped at the sight of the horrid wooden spoon still laying where Gibbs had deposited it the night before. He grimaced and quickly turned away.

A few minutes later, dressed in old jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, Tony padded down the steps and into the kitchen. As an afterthought before leaving his room, he'd picked up the hated spoon between two fingers (much like one would hold a dead mouse by its tail) and brought it with him. But even holding it as he was, he was surprised at how heavy it was. Sure, it had done quite a job on his backside, but it wasn't until he held it himself that he realized how solid it was. Upon arriving in the kitchen, he dropped it unceremoniously into a drawer and slammed it shut, willing the spoon to stay put and never, ever make an appearance again.

After a bowl of cereal, he headed out the back door and around the side of the house to the garage. He pushed up the door, which slid easily on its track and stood back peering in for a moment. To say that the garage was organized would be like saying Probie was good with computers. Rakes and shovels hung from pegs on the wall arranged by type and size. A shelf along one wall held bags of fertilizer and potting soil, gardening tools, coils of twine and rope, paint cans, containers of motor oil and antifreeze, an oil can and a red gasoline container.

Tony grabbed the gasoline and wheeled the lawnmower out onto the driveway. He looked down at the mower and pondered the fact that it appeared to be older than he was. But after filling the gas tank and priming it, it started with one tug on the starting cord. He briefly considered mowing a picture into the lawn but decided that considering he was mowing this particular lawn for a very particular reason, he was probably better off just going with standard stripes. But that did not stop him from amusing himself with ideas while he mowed – some making him both grin at his cleverness and cringe at the thought of what the lawn's owner would do when he saw it…

By the time the lawn was neatly mowed and edged and the hedges had been trimmed, Tony was absolutely starving. He put the lawn equipment away and headed into the house for some lunch. He had stuffed half of his sandwich in his mouth and was chewing it with some difficulty when he heard the faint sound of his cell phone ringing upstairs. _Oh crap!_ The sandwich almost choked him as he launched himself out of his chair and up the stairs, trying to swallow large chunks of meat and bread. He grabbed the phone and flipped it open half a ring before it would have gone to voicemail.

"Maahhth," he said into the phone around his lunch, "I warwwy. I horot."

"Tony. Swallow."

He did and then tried again. "Boss, I'm sorry. I forgot."

"You doing ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just…got distracted by something. And then I went and did the lawn and the hed…"

"Tony, it's fine. I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I'm fine. Um, how's it going there?" he asked, suddenly a little uncertain of himself.

"There are a couple of steaks in the freezer. Throw them in the sink to thaw for dinner," Gibbs said.

It did not escape Tony's notice that Gibbs had ignored his question. Work was always harder when they were a man down, and he was suddenly mad at himself again for screwing up and getting suspended. "Yeah, ok," he said into the phone.

"I should be home around six," Gibbs said and then hung up.

Normally, it wouldn't have even phased Tony to have Gibbs hang up so abruptly, since more often than not, that was how phone conversations with him ended. But the fact that he was now wallowing in a pool of regret made the click on the other end of the phone sting.

Tony flipped his phone shut and put it in his pocket. He slowly clumped down the stairs back to the kitchen, but he had lost his appetite. Leaving the uneaten part of his sandwich on the table, he went back upstairs to get started on the shower grout.


	2. Day 1 PM

For a while, the scrubbing provided a good beat for that mantra pounding in Tony's head: "_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot." _An hour after he'd started, he stood up to stretch his aching back. As he stretched his body, suddenly, his mind stretched too. "_Idiot? Really? Maybe not. Maybe I'm just impulsive like Gibbs says I am. Yeah, that's it. I'm impulsive._" It was with renewed energy that he attacked the rest of the grout and by the time the job was done, he was convinced the shower had never been so clean.

To reward himself for a job well done, Tony stripped down, turned on the hot water and stepped into the now sparkling shower. The hot water felt so good on his work-worn muscles and he stood under it for a long time before he actually started washing. By the time he was finished, the water was barely lukewarm. He pushed back the shower curtain and grabbed a clean towel from the shelf. He dried off and rubbed his hair with the towel, then stepped out of the tub and used the towel to wipe the condensation from the mirror. He stared at his reflection. "_I look tired,_" he thought.

He was about to wrap the towel around his waist when he had a thought. Slowly, he turned around, stood on his toes and looked over his shoulder. "Wow…" There, on his left butt cheek was a bruise about the size of a quarter. Tony lowered himself, wrapped the towel around his waist, leaned forward against the sink and stared at his reflection again. A million thoughts ran through his mind at once. "_He bruised me. He's never done that before. I deserved it. I knew he was mad, but still… It's my fault. He must feel terrible. Why did I make him so mad? He probably feels really guilty now. But it didn't stop him from spanking me again, so he must not feel _that_ guilty…_"

The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs pulled Tony back to the present.

"Tony?" Gibbs called up the stairs.

Tony quickly straightened and ran his fingers through his damp hair to get it to lay a little flatter. "I'll be down in a minute," he called back. He took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door and padded quickly across the hall to his room. After slipping on a clean pair of jeans and a clean shirt, he hung his towel on the back of the bathroom door and hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Gibbs stood against the counter, his arms crossed in front of him and his brow knitted in annoyance. Tony stopped short. "Hey Boss," he said, trying not to make it seem too obvious that he was forcing a smile. "How was your day?"

"It was fine. But I'm hungry."

Tony's heart stopped. The steaks! He let out a frustrated sigh. "Boss, I'm so sorry. I forgot." Immediately, he remembered that this was not the first time today he'd uttered those words.

Gibbs continued glaring at Tony as he pointed to the top of the refrigerator. Tony's eyes followed the finger and correctly surmised that his annoyed boss was pointing at the take-out menus. He retrieved them and dropped them on the counter. "I'm really sorry," he said again.

"You get distracted again?" Gibbs asked as he started leafing through the menus.

Tony shrugged. "Kind of."

"Order something. I need a shower," Gibbs said, dropping the menus back on the counter. He disappeared up the stairs and Tony said a quick prayer that the water heater had refilled.

"The shower looks good," Gibbs said when he arrived back in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, looking, Tony noticed, much less annoyed. "I need to go check the water heater though," he added as he continued toward the basement steps.

Tony bit his lip. "Uh, Boss? There's nothing wrong with it."

Gibbs stopped halfway down the steps, turned around and walked back up to the kitchen. He looked at Tony, standing there looking sheepish and couldn't help but grin. "A little sore?" Tony shrugged and looked away. "The yard looks good too," Gibbs said kindly and Tony relaxed a little. "What did you order for dinner? And it had better not be pizza."

After dinner, Tony and Gibbs munched on left over wontons and exchanged news of the day. Naturally, Gibbs had far more news than Tony did. Reading between the lines, Tony figured out that the case was at a standstill. But for some reason, Gibbs seemed to be attempting to hide that fact from him.

"How's your essay coming?" Gibbs finally asked after a lull in the conversation.

"I haven't started it yet," Tony said quietly.

"Well, I guess that's what you'll be working on tomorrow." He got up, cleared the containers off the table and headed into the living room. Tony heard the TV turn on and leaned back in his chair to peer out the door.

"Hm," he shrugged. That was odd. He stood up, walked toward the living room and leaned against the doorframe. Gibbs was sitting on the couch reading the paper while a basketball game played on the set. "Not, um, working on the boat tonight?" he said hesitantly.

In lieu of an answer, Gibbs held out a section of the paper. Tony walked across the room and took the offered paper – the Lifestyle section. _Really?_ He settled on the other end of the couch but instead of opening to the House & Home articles, he just stared at the older man seated beside him.

"What?" Gibbs asked, without looking away from the Sports section.

"Nothing," Tony answered, finally pretending to be interested in an article on feng shui.

Two hours later, Tony sat staring at the game on the TV, not really seeing any of the action, and Gibbs was still buried behind the paper – doing the crossword puzzle. Tony had snuck some more looks at Gibbs, but neither of them had said a word.

"Boss?" Tony ventured.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

Silence.

"Boss?"

"What Tony?"

"I think…I'll go to bed." Tony stood up and walked toward the stairs. He heard Gibbs sigh and the sound of the paper being put down.

"Tony, come here." Tony slowly returned and leaned against the doorframe again. "Sit down." Tony sat tentatively in the chair next to the couch. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing." The look was not unexpected. Tony sighed. "I've had some time to think today." The grin wasn't unexpected either. "I…I really pissed you off yesterday, didn't I?"

The grin disappeared. "You saw?" Tony nodded. Gibbs shook his head. "I was out of control yesterday. I never should have punished you when I was that scared and angry."

"I deserved it," Tony whispered.

"No. You did not deserve that. You deserved to be punished," he added quickly off Tony's confused glance, "but not like that. I should have waited until I calmed down. I'm sorry I hurt you, Tony. I really am."

Tony moved to the couch next to his boss and sat facing him. "It's ok," he said quietly. They sat in silence for a long time, Gibbs clearly lost in regret, Tony still a little confused. Finally, Tony couldn't stand the tension anymore. "So…why…" he hesitated.

"Why what? Why did I do it if I knew I was out of control?" Gibbs asked, almost sadly.

"No, not that. Why did you…do it again?"

"You made me," he said matter-of-factly.

"I what?" Tony asked incredulously.

"I was willing to let that be it, but instead of going to bed when I told you to, you talked back to me. And," he added, "you hadn't repented yet." He gave Tony a look, then softened. "It was also so I could get it right. And your reaction to the second one told me that I made the right decision."

Tony nodded slowly, then gave Gibbs an impish grin. "That spoon is wicked."

"No kidding," Gibbs smiled. "Keep that in mind."

"I should have burned it when I had the chance," Tony said ruefully.

Gibbs smiled broader. "Where is it by the way? I noticed it's not on the dresser anymore."

"You don't miss much, do you Boss?" Tony laughed. "It's in the kitchen drawer. Where it belongs. To be used for cooking."

Gibbs laughed, stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

"Boss? Where are you going?" Tony asked nervously.

"To get some ice cream, Tony. Want some?"

Tony breathed a sigh of relief, but in the back of his mind, he knew that he would always panic a little whenever Gibbs went into the kitchen – now that he knew what lived there.


	3. Day 2

The next morning, Gibbs woke Tony up at six. "Shower's all yours," he said, poking his head in the door. Tony groaned and snuggled further under the blankets. "Come on. Time to get up."

"Boss, come on. It's not like I have anywhere to go," Tony moaned sleepily.

"You don't get to sleep the day away when you're grounded, Tony. Get up. Breakfast is in fifteen," Gibbs said then bounced down the stairs. As much as he'd hated hearing those words when he was younger, it was actually kind of fun to say them.

Tony arrived in the kitchen right on time. He was showered, but definitely not awake. Gibbs wordlessly handed him a coffee cup and a plate of toast. Tony took both and flopped into a chair with the plate and the empty cup.

"It might help if you put something in that," Gibbs said, trying not to smile.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Gibbs was lost in the paper. Tony was still more asleep than awake. Just for the fun of it, Gibbs put his coffee cup down on the table harder than was really necessary. As expected, Tony jumped and Gibbs laughed.

"Not funny, Boss," Tony mumbled.

Gibbs grinned and shrugged. "Was to me." He stood up and brought his plate and cup to the sink. "I cooked. You're on KP."

"Cooked? You made toast and put a box of cereal on the table," Tony retorted.

"I made coffee too." Gibbs walked toward the door and picked up his keys off the table next to it.

"Wait, Boss!" Tony called. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"You have an essay to write."

"That's not going to take me all day."

Gibbs walked back into the kitchen. "Ten pages? Long hand? It'll take you most of the day."

"What?!" Tony exclaimed, suddenly fully awake.

"Spelling and neatness count," Gibbs added, then turned and walked out of the room. "Have a good day," he called. "Call if you need anything." And with that, he was gone.

Tony stared into his coffee cup. "Ten pages…" he fussed. Rolling his eyes, he got up and dropped his dishes into the sink. He started to walk out of the kitchen, then turned back. If he didn't do the dishes now, they wouldn't get done. He washed, dried and put them away quickly. Before he headed up to the office, he had another thought. He reached into the freezer, extricated two steaks and deposited them in the sink. There was no way he was going to make that mistake again.

Three hours and four pages later, Tony leaned back in the office chair and stretched. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back with his legs in the air. "Ow," he said, rubbing the back of his head. He groaned. "This sucks!" he said out loud. Flexing his sore right hand, he studied the ceiling. There was nothing interesting up there, but his eyes needed to focus on something a little further away than the pad of paper he'd been staring at for far too long.

Suddenly, he had a thought. He pushed himself off the floor and righted the chair before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He flipped it open and dialed Gibbs.

"Gibbs."

"Hey Boss!"

"I'm a little busy here. What is it Tony?"

"Oh, um, I was just wondering…can I go…"

"No."

"But Boss, you don't even know what I was going to ask."

"What part of 'you're grounded' do you not understand?"

He let out a deflated sigh. "I guess none of it. Sorry I bothered you."

Tony heard Gibbs hesitate. "I'll see you tonight," he said gently and then hung up.

He flipped his phone closed, looked at the desk with disgust then decided to go looking for a snack. A break was very much needed right now.

An hour later, Tony made his way back up to the office, having run out of ways to stall, and starting to realize that he still had six more pages to come up with before Gibbs got home in a few hours.

Four and a half pages of rambling later, he heard the front door open and close. "Tony?" Gibbs called.

"Up here," he called back. His heart was pounding as he wrote furiously, trying to fill the last page and a half before Gibbs made it up the stairs. Naturally, he failed.

"You're still working on that?" Gibbs asked, looking over Tony's shoulder. He reached over and picked up the pad while Tony continued to try to write on it. "Time's up, Tony," he said with a grin as he flipped back to the first page. He settled into the stuffed chair in the corner and started reading. Tony watched nervously. A page flipped. Gibbs' eyes darted back and forth on the page. A page flipped. More reading. A page flipped. Gibbs shook his head and dropped the pad into his lap. "Well," he said, "the first two pages were ok."

"Boss, I tried. I swear. But ten pages? Really?" Tony whined.

Gibbs grinned. "It kept you busy all day," he shrugged. Tony glared at him, and he laughed. "Go get changed. We'll go for that run you wanted earlier today." He hoisted himself out of the chair and headed to his room to change, leaving Tony sitting with his mouth hanging open.

After showers and a steak and potatoes dinner, Gibbs and Tony settled into the living room, a fire in the fireplace, an old movie on TV and a newspaper.

"I bet you're ready to go back to work tomorrow," Gibbs said quietly after a while.

"Oh yeah," Tony answered emphatically.

"We're ready to have you back," Gibbs said, with a kind smile.

Tony looked over at him and grinned shyly for a moment. Then he jumped up from the couch. "Want some ice cream?"

Gibbs joined him in the kitchen. He pulled open a drawer to take out the ice cream scoop. A small grin spread across his face. His fingers lingered almost fondly on the handle of an old wooden spoon. "Tony." Tony looked at him, down at the drawer then back up at his boss. "Just so you know," he said, still smiling a little, "this spoon has never been used for cooking."


End file.
